


War of Drugs

by fentanyls



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drug Use, Dystopia, Gen, Recreational Drug Use, Utopia, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fentanyls/pseuds/fentanyls
Summary: After 40 years of fighting with itself over its stance on drug use, America is still divided on what they should do with their country. A young soldier uses this war to learn more in his confusing life.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A preface of the war.

**Prologue**

Originally, the War of Drugs was a peaceful protest amongst the American people that began in the state of California. It was started by a very respectable man, who went by the nickname “the Messiah”. He seemed to have an epiphany one day from a psilocybin, LSD, and N,N DMT drug combination. He came up with one simple resolution to America’s drug problem: Protesting constantly will gradually make the people realize that safer, mind opening drugs shall be legalized and used as everyday medicines, and more harmful drugs have to be regulated in that matter instead. It may seem like a stretch, but why could opiates and benzodiazepines be scheduled under medicinal use, yet much safer alternatives have either been made illegal or left legality up to the states? He proposed this idea to many, from social media to talk shows, and it spread like wildfire.

This once peaceful protest was never, ever meant to be as violent as it was forty years later. However, the main issue with all ideologies is that there will always be a radicalized version of it. A crazed amphetamine addict who learned of Messiah’s ideas had adopted them and twisted it into his own ideology. Known as Hellion, he believed that peace would never gradually end the problem, and that if the people wanted to be heard, they had to fight for it. He backed his proposition up by comparing it to the Revolutionary War, which helped grab many people’s attention. If what he says is nearly similar to how America gained their independence from the British, then he must have a good point, right?

Whether people took his word because they legitimately thought it was a good idea or they were just bored, it is beyond me. All I know is that they did take his word for it.

Like Messiah, he also grew in popularity. He managed to rally up thousands of supporters within the United States. Due to the two leaders’ ideals being very similar, most thought that these men were working together, but that was far from true. When Hellion first started coming up in popularity, the Messiah heard of him and sent a long, colorful email that made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with his plans, and if he tried to get in his way of establishing peace, there would be consequences. The tweaker ignored his warning.

Messiah’s supporters often held marches on the streets to promote his philosophy. On a mild October day, hundreds of them lined the streets of New York City, holding up signs that had phrases such as, “LEGALIZE SHROOMS AND BE FREE FROM DOOM”, “ACID MADE ME A BETTER PERSON”, and “DUDE, I’M SO HIGH RIGHT NOW”. The police stood on the sidelines to make sure nothing was going wrong, but their awareness had been lowered because they expected nothing from a bunch of stoners. Not only did they march, but hippies had conversation with normal townsfolk about their goals and dreams and life, why they were there, what they were planning to achieve out of this. They were successful in persuading many people to support the efforts of the Messiah.

But it came out of nowhere, initiated by screams and loud bangs. Gas grenades were tossed into the crowd and people wearing gas masks were shoving other people down, jumping on cars, damaging property. It was hell. The police tried to stop it the best way they could, but since they didn’t expect there to be violence involved, they were unprepared and had to try to tame the crowd with their day to day equipment. Not only that, but the gas released from the grenades blocked their field of vision, and also produced a far worse effect.

Some people reported seeing the hands of God, and others claimed they were looking straight into the eyes of the devil. Whatever the case may be, anyone affected by the gas that day was certainly writhing on the ground tripping balls.

Emergency services were called, and they had to come in prepped with masks to try and save all who were hurt. There were no deaths reported, but there had been several injured due to excessive pushing and shoving within the crowd, a good fourth of them requiring psychological treatment after the event.

News had quickly gotten out to Messiah, and when he heard, he was both furious and frightened. He was in Colorado at the time, the hometown he resided when he wasn’t touring. He couldn’t be in New York to address the situation headon. The media had been all over it already, and within thirty minutes after he got the news, he had a hundred calls and a thousand emails. People everywhere were placing accusations against him, while others protected him and placed the blame on his devilish rival instead. Whatever the case could have been, the first thing he did was get in contact with Hellion, ignoring everyone else’s curiosity and concerns.

“Subject: What the hell!

Body: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I told you not to get in my way, I’m trying to bring peace to our country and you’re taking my ideas and turning them into some fucked up tweaker fantasy! If you don’t take your strung out brain back to the meth lab it came from, you’re gonna regret it. I’m warning you!”

Only a few minutes passed before he received a response. All Hellion replied with was, “This won’t be over until I get what I want.”

And like he said, he showed no plans in stopping until he got what he wanted. While Messiah took the time to get online and talk with other people about the situation with his philosophy, attempting to reconcile with all who turned against him, Hellion was plotting, and even while he was busy, his followers were still out causing trouble. As Messiah organized protests and marches in a certain area, his rival would sometimes send out a division to ruin it. The police were better prepared for this type of situation, however, and brute force had been applied occasionally against any of Hellion’s supporters that had been captured, but there were too many of them to deal with at once. They always used hallucinogenic gas grenades to distract the police and hippies and wore gas masks to make sure they weren’t affected in the midst of the attacks. Eventually, Messiah caught on and told his supporters that they had to start wearing gas masks at every protest to avoid being drugged, and also equipped them with weapons like bats in case they were being beaten.

A few weeks had gone by, and it was November by then. The problems with the protests had been heard all over the world, and people from the outside started to show their support for the wise or the wretched. While there was still trouble arising between Messiah’s supporters and Hellion’s supporters, nobody except people from within Hellion’s community heard of any new plots or schemes he had come up with, which was a good and a bad thing. Deep down Messiah knew that something else would come up, because hell, the man told him he wasn’t finished, yet he was relieved that for a moment he’d just send his tweaked out followers to cause trouble. That problem was fading away regardless. After weeks of the same thing happening at every protest, Messiah and the LPD of every state both figured out an effective way to prevent most of the issues.

Yet, it was a shot that was heard around the world...

There were no protests held by Messiah that day. None. But that didn’t stop Hellion from beginning his plan to take over the government. Yes,you read correctly. A tweaker tried to take over the government and it actually almost worked.

Nobody had a damn clue on how this man managed to get ahold of military weaponry, but on November 21st, 2018, he ordered that his supporters from all over wreck havoc wherever they went as he had a heavily armed convoy attack the White House. He was not with this convoy of course, but these men seemed like they were specially trained for situations like these. As people in other states were pulling out guns and mowing people down or going around stabbing people, these men pulled out RPG missiles, aimed them at the White House building, and blew it apart.

A state of emergency was immediately announced. LPD did all they could to settle the reports of people being attacked in the states, while Washington D.C. tried to settle its own problem. Both the military and SWAT had to try to deal with the issue, but to no avail. The convoy of a thousand well-trained men of Hellion’s radical party managed to not only severely damage the White House, but kill the president and vice president, whom they both had tracked down and eliminated with a separate convoy.

Hellion became an outlaw and had a big bounty placed on him by the remaining part of the government, and because he technically started it by coming up with the idea in the first place, the Messiah was an outlaw too. Messiah and a few of his close friends went into hiding to try and find out a way they were going to get him out of it alive. Hellion was so self-righteous that he saw no reason to hide, although he was being protected by an illegal militia, so it bought him some time.

Messiah was hidden in the west while Hellion hid in the south. As people went looking for them, the outside world began to pick sides and rebelled on their own. Messiah’s supporters still wanted to protest, but due to their leader being seen as a terrorist, they couldn’t without being seen as a criminal organization. Instead, they would gather around in the western states where their leader hid, gain access to weapons, and claim the west as part of their territory. They overthrew their LPDs and came up with their own. Anyone who came in looking for the Messiah would be captured and put into a prison. The south did the same, except a bit more extreme. They were all tweaked out so their ways of establishing their territory was a bit more gruesome, but nevertheless it was done. Everyone in the military was ordered by the government to abandon their bases and move to the northeast, which they claimed to be their territory for the time being as they tried to come up with a plan to restore their broken nation.

Some of the midwest served as territory for all citizens who wanted nothing to do with the war, and those who wanted to get involved moved along to the areas they were interested in. Because this territory was neutral, some of the military bases there were preserved, and LPD existed to protect the citizens. The other half of the midwest, due to the opiate crisis, served territory for junkies who had nowhere else to go.

At this point, the nation was split into five different territories based on region. West was home to the Peace Clan, original followers of the Messiah. Midwest was half free territory, half Nodsquad (junkie) territory. South was Tweak Nation, followers of Hellion. Northeast was government territory, where citizens who did live there were given the most protection from the war. The plan that Peace Clan and Tweak Nation both had was simple: whoever takes over the northeast first, takes over America.

But this is not what the Messiah wanted. He only wanted a place for his son and future generations to live in peace and harmony, with natural, safe medicines ready for them and adventures they could partake in with the blessings of psychedelics. Though he was in hiding, he had hidden access to the Internet still, and made these thoughts known from his underground hiding place. Not many took his word seriously, even his own followers pushed it aside. It made him miserable that everyone who supported him had been overcome with greed.

One day, Hellion contacted him. He emailed him a formal apology for what he had caused and explained that while being hidden, he sobered up from his stimulant binge and realized all the damage he had brought upon their country. He asked Messiah if he would like to meet up with him in Houston, Texas to discuss a truce between clans.

Messiah was reluctant at first, but he agreed. He’d leave the west without telling anyone, left his son in the care of his friends, and travel to Texas by car. He got there around a day later, and was provided a free night in a hotel by his soon to be ally.

The morning after, they met up in the lounge of the hotel, and sat down at a table to chat with plates of breakfast. Face to face for the first time, they got a good look at each other.

“Wow, yer more hippie than I imagined,” Hellion said, observing his long blonde hair and beard. “Ya look like Jesus Christ if he was a stoner.”

“You look like an average tweaker who’s probably had a few gay alleyway fucks in his lifetime, but we aren’t here to make fun of each other’s appearances, are we?” Messiah replied before taking a sip of his coffee. “We’re here to make peace, that’s what I took the time to come here for. Do we have a truce or not? I have a kid to go home to.”

“Kid?” the tweaker asked. “How old’s yer kid?”

“He’s only three.” Messiah raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“Do ya love ‘im?”

“Of course I do, he’s my son, for Christ’s sake. Do we have a truce or not? You’re wasting my time.” Hellion could tell Messiah was growing impatient with his tone of voice. He only smiled with his crooked meth mouth.

“Sorry buddy, but yer not gonna be seeing yer son for a while.”

Messiah paused from taking a bite of his toast. “Excuse me?”

Hellion shrugged. “Business is business pardner.”

Before Messiah could muster a “what”, an entire group of undercover police officers ran in from every direction of the hotel.

“PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

Messiah’s hands slowly rose in the air, and he dropped the toast. So did his enemy’s. As Messiah glared at Hellion, he only smiled back.

They were sentenced to death. They were both given last meals, asked what their last words would be, and given a lethal injection. The news was spread across America, and while thinking this would end the revolution, the government was wrong. Citizens were outraged, and it didn’t help that the Peace Clan found out Tweak Nation’s leader got both of them killed. This established a longtime rivalry between the two clans, and Messiah’s wish for peace was never given.

Needless to say, his son didn’t grow up with his father by his side, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t carry on his legacy. Messiah’s closest friends, the people who knew about his dad the most, were the ones who took care of him.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soldier gets left behind when his mission gets cut short by the enemy. He attempts to find his way back to his military base.

**Chapter 1**

For every recruit to go up a rank, they’re required to go on a mission with two specialists to raid rival territory and kidnap anyone who seems to work in compliance with a clan. Unfortunately, Private-7560’s group was attacked by three truckloads of tweakers, and during the attack one managed to hit him in the back of the head with the butt of an assault rifle, knocking him out. He woke up thirty minutes later, stripped of every weapon he had except a small pocket knife that his attackers apparently looked over. His superiors were nowhere in sight, and neither was the truck they were driving in.

Private-7560 managed to get up on his feet, feeling his head pound as he stood. He observed the area he was in: a low, paved road with nothing but grassy mountains surrounding him, and a few small, abandoned looking shacks along the pavement. It was a good sign that he was somewhere close to civilization, but a bad sign because he had little knowledge of where he was. His base was back in Wyoming, and his group was making its way into Colorado, a state that was part of Peace Clan territory. It was his first mission and he was told to follow the orders of his superiors, but was never informed on what to do if he was attacked and had his things stolen by a bunch of meth heads. He’d use his walkie-talkie to try and see if the specialists were alive or not, but they stole that too. He had heard a lot of stories about how violent tweakers were, so only goodness knew what could have happened to them. 

If had ever been in this situation, most enlisted recruits would be determined in trying their hardest to get out of this situation to prove that they were strong enough to handle anything. Truth be told, Private-7560 was anything but strong-willed. He never did look forward to this mission, or had looked forward to joining the military in the first place. His parents were both adamant in the belief that enlisting him at age 18 would help shape him up into a stronger, more assertive man by the time he was in his mid-20’s, yet the poor kid was scared shitless as soon as he walked into the MEPS. It made him an easy target for all his fellow colleagues to pick on, a huge problem for someone as shy as he was. He already felt bad that he was sent there by force, but he was placed under stricter conditions than he was at home, and the pressure on him made him feel like he could break down at any second. Another thing he also feared was disappointing his parents, and even though he was basically sacrificing his life for his territory against his will, it was either do what they asked of him or be disowned. At least if he perished, he’d die with the pride of knowing that he made his parents happy.

Of course they wouldn’t feel happy knowing their son was dead, he was aware of that, but sometimes he felt like his death would be the cost for them to realize that he was being pushed to the extreme. Nevertheless, dying at 18 years, with no knowledge of the world around him and nothing to put on his name was what scared him. If he was going to die, he’d at least want to die doing something that would give him the respect he never really had. That itself was enough encouragement for him to try and find his way back to Wyoming.

Problem was, he had no clue on where to go, and didn’t bother investigating the shacks as they looked like they’d been evacuated for centuries. He couldn’t remember if they were going forward on the road, where the sun was rising, or if they were going towards its setting. After taking a minute or two to decide where he’d go, Private-7560 turned away from the sun and walked onward. He was just hoping that wherever he’d end up (if he found civilization at all), they’d be so kind as to give him proper directions back home. 

Though lethargic at first, he eventually got to a quick yet steady pace on his feet and walked along the road. After he got a couple of yards ahead of the abandoned shacks, a man hiding in one of them slowly peaked his head out of its broken window. Seeing that Private-7560 was far ahead of him, he gently set down his bong and pulled a walkie talkie out of his pocket with sweaty, shaky hands.

* * *

 

After about thirty minutes of walking along the road, Private-7560 did find civilization, but it was a county within Colorado. He had come upon a small plaza looking area where there seemed to be many people all about. He saw them in and out of stores, walking from place to place, chatting amongst themselves, or sitting on the ground passing joints among their circle. Outdoor seshes were common for any state within the Peace Clan territory, as he learned from studying and being tested on the characteristics of each one. That was probably the only thing he had learned that would help him in this situation.

The soldier was dressed from head to toe in combat gear. He knew if he tried walking amongst the civilians as so, they would figure him out quickly. They did seem too high to notice, but it was still best if he played it safe.

Private-7560 scurried behind the nearest building and took off all of his gear save his combat boots, leaving his shaven head bare to the sunlight and wearing a plain white t-shirt and black trousers. He took the knife from his utility belt and placed it in his pocket. Leaving his gear behind, assured that he would get replacements for it all once he got back to his base, he stepped from the back of the building and glanced up at it’s front. It was a small convenience store with worn out, red lettering above the door that read “DANNY’S PHARMACY”.

With the plan he already set out fresh on his mind, he took a deep breath and stepped into the pharmacy, the bell on the door jingling as he did so. Inside, shelves held convenience items including food and over the counter medicines. Fridges lined the walls of the store and at the front a short man with balding grey hair and glasses stood at the counter, writing down something on a sheet of paper. His attention averted to the soldier when he heard the doorbell.

Private-7560 found himself subconsciously observing his surroundings as he casually treaded up to the front counter. When he did, he noticed a laminated sign on the wall above it. 

“‘STOP STEALING OUR DXM’…?” he read, raising an eyebrow. _What’s that? Never heard of it when studying for our tests..._ He didn’t realize he read the sign out loud.

“Yes, as in instead of stealing our robitussin like a junkie, you can pay for it like every other functioning member of society does,” the pharmacist responded, his high-pitched yet firm voice startling him. “What do you need?" 

“Oh, um..” Private-7560 scratched his bare head. He knew what to say, but became nervous and it led to stuttering. “Well, I’m kinda lost, and I was wondering if you knew anyone that could get me back to Wyoming. I was biking around here and I got my b-bike and backp-pack stolen by a bunch of twerkers—TWEAKERS, and they also stole my phone, so I can’t call my f-friends to pick me up or anything…” 

“Oh, really?” The pharmacist looked unimpressed by Private-7560’s obviously made up story. Though the soldier knew he didn’t believe it, Private-7560 decided to push his luck.

He gave a small nod. “Yes.. r-really.”

The man sighed, shook his head, and clicked his pen, placing it in the front pocket of his scrubs. “I’ll be right back. I know someone who can help you with your unfortunate situation, but first I have to make a quick call regarding someone’s prescription.” Grabbing the sheet of paper he was writing on, he turned away from the counter and shuffled into the back room. “Wait here.”

Private-7560 was relieved. For a second, he thought pharmacist would leave him out to dry. He held his clammy hands while withdrawing a long sigh, and began talking quietly to himself. “You’ve got this man. You’re good. You’ll be home soon.”

He found himself looking around the pharmacy again, and glanced over at a fridge on the wall to his left. Spotting bottles of different flavored soft drinks, he began to think about how parched he was from his walk towards the town.

His thoughts were cut short when he heard the doorbell ring. He looked behind him and could only see three men rushing towards him before his vision turned black. They had put a burlap sack over his head and were carrying him out of the pharmacy with a firm grip on his arms and legs. He screamed for help, but was clocked in the head instantly, and passed out from the pressure.

He woke up with his face wet and frantic movement. He thought he was sweating, but the rest of his body was relatively dry. He realized that he had water thrown on his face to wake him up. Shaking and blinking the water out of his eyes, through blurred vision he could see three.. six? No, three men standing in front of him, the dim light bulb above them showing their silhouettes. The soldier tried to move, but his hands were tied together behind his back with a strong rope, and his ankles were tied to the legs of the chair he was sitting in.

Freaking out, he began spouting pleas to the three men, hoping that it’d do him any good. “Don’t hurt me! Please! I-I wouldn’t have even come on this mission if I didn’t have to. They made me! They forced me here, every single one of them! Even my parents! I never wanted to be here, I never wanted to do this—!”

“Dude, dude, dude…” He could see one of them hold his hands up, palms facing him. “..can you chill? We’re not gonna hurt you man.” The same one turned to the silhouette to his right, er.. left. “Did you bring the towel in here?”

There was a five second pause. “Huh?”

He sighed. “Go get the towel, man.”

The person left to get a towel. The two men left in the room grabbed chairs and stepped forward into the light. Private-7560 could see them both a little bit clearer. One was a pale man with a blonde hair tied in a bun, a scruffy face, and shades over his eyes. Another was a brown man wearing a black skull cap that nearly covered his brown eyes. Both were wearing black basketball jerseys for a team called “Shroomies”. The white man’s number was 12 and the black man’s number was 3.

The white one held his hand up and waved as he took a seat. “Hi. Name’s Johnny, man. That’s my homie over there,” he gestured his thumb at the black one, “he’s Eddy.”

Eddy nodded at him, sitting in the chair backwards. “‘Sup.”

“We just wanna ask you some questions, man. We aren’t gonna hurt you in any way,” Johnny said, taking off his shades. “We just tied you to the chair ‘cause we thought you were gonna hurt us, being apart of the Government Army and all. We also found a knife in your pocket. We figured you were gonna try and stab someone.”

“How did you know I was apart of the Government Army?” Private-7560 asked, slowly calming down.

“One of our niggas called another nigga and they sent out a town alert for you,” Eddy answered. “He saw everything that happened; the attack, the tweakers, the looting, all of that. He called in as soon as he saw you walking to our town.”

“Don’t forget the numbers tattooed on the back of his head,” Johnny noted.

“Yeah, those too.” Eddy gave him a nod. “Usually people who work for the Government Army have those numbers, no other army does it. What do those numbers mean, anyway, and what were they again? Seven, six, zero, five?”

Johnny shook his head. “I think they were seven, five, zero, six, man.”

“Y-Yes, seven-five-sixty,” the soldier agreed. “That’s my assigned number so they can identify me if my body is found somewhere, or if I happen to come up M.I.A. They call me Private-7560, because I’m still at the recruit rank, or… most call me Private-75-pussy, but…”

Private-7560 was cut short as the two men in front of him began laughing hysterically. He felt his cheeks heat up from embarrassment. _That’s what I get for oversharing again…_

“They- _hahaha!_ \- they call you Private-75-pussy?” Johnny cackled. “Why do they call you that, man?”

“I’m kind of timid,” he half-whispered, looking at his feet.

“I see that!” The blonde laughed some more and gave him a reassuring smile. “But don’t worry about it, man, it doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

“With all due respect my nigga, I don’t think I can call you Private-7560 without thinking about that shit. Probably should’ve kept it to yourself.” Eddy chuckled and shook his head. “What’s your real name?”

“Well… I was instructed to never give out my real name to anyone within the clans if anything like this ever popped up. They never told me what to do if my mission was cut short by a bunch of tweakers, though.” He mumbled the last sentence to himself.

“Well if you say so,” Eddy said. “Guess that just means we have to come up with a nickname for you.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

The two men were quiet for a minute or so, besides another chuckle that came from Eddy and “Private-75-pussy” in a low voice, his friend laughing along with him. They stopped when they saw the pitiful look on the captive’s face.

Johnny then snapped his fingers. “I got it! I’m calling you Seven from now on.” He looked over at Eddy. “Whaddya think?”

The man shrugged. “Sounds good to me. He sorta looks like a ‘Seven’ anyway.” There was a three second pause before he added, “No homo.”

Johnny looked at him like he was stupid.

“Seven...” The soldier thought about it. To him, it did seem like a pretty cool name, and it was better than to being referred to as a sissy. “Yeah.. that does sound pretty cool,” he said sheepishly.

“Yeah! See, what’d I tell you man? I’m a genius.” Johnny hit Eddy playfully in the arm and gave him a grin. “I’m a genius, maaaan!”

“Nigga, you just got that from the first number of his dog-tat,” Eddy retorted. “That didn’t take much to think about.”

Johnny’s smile turned into a pout. “Way to ruin the fun.”

The door to the room opened and in came the third silhouette who left to get the towel. Seven observed that he was a bit shorter than the other two, and was wearing a baseball cap over his black hair. He handed a towel to Johnny.

“What took you so long, man?”

“My bad, I thought I put it on the table or somethin’ but I couldn’t find it so I had to go find another one. Everything good in here?” He was speaking too fast for Seven to understand him well enough, but Johnny seemed to get it.

“Yeah, no worries, man. This guy’s basically harmless to us.” He got up from his chair and began to dab the water off of Seven’s face. “Eddy, come untie him.”

Eddy got up and stepped behind his chair to untie the soldier’s hands. After his hands were freed, Johnny handed him the towel so he could further dry himself off if he felt the need. Seven patted his face with the towel some more before setting it aside and beginning to work on the ropes on his ankles. “Are you letting me go?” he asked them.

“Well, not exaaactly,” Johnny responded. “It’s against Clan protocol to let any captured soldiers back to any of their territories because we don’t want any of them giving too much intel. If they’re hostile we put them in prison, but you aren’t very dangerous to us. And uh.. we’re a bit too high to come up with proper interrogation questions man.”

Seven frowned. “Does that mean I won’t be going home?”

“Afraid not, but from what you’ve told us,” the blonde shrugged, “seems like you’d like it better here anyway. All the other friendly captives have.”

“We’re gonna let you chill with us,” Eddy added. “Hope you like eating shrooms and smoking Mary Jane, cause that’s all we do.” He laughed and exchanged a special handshake with Johnny, which Johnny passed on to the guy next to him.

“N-No thanks. I don’t do drugs. My parents said they’d skin me if I ever touched anything so much as too much tylenol.” Seven then finished untying his legs from the chair and stood up. He noticed that he was a bit shorter than all three of them.

Eddy sucked his teeth at the statement. “Man, fuck yo parents. You’re grown up now, and you’re free to do whatever you fuckin’ please.”

“Eh, that’s okay man, don’t have to do ‘em if you don’t wanna. It’s pretty stupid for them to say that but we ain’t gonna force ya. Name’s Ricky by the way.” The third person stuck his hand out for Seven to shake. Though reluctant at first, the soldier shook the fast speaking man’s hand.

“Come on, dudes.” Johnny opened the door and led the way out of the interrogation room. They were immediately met with a small living room area that was filled with so much smoke, Seven could hardly see the colorful decorations and decals plastered around the place and the circle of people sitting on the floor. The sunlight shining through the closed patio doors helped, but he’d prefer them to be open to clear all the smoke out. It also smelled extremely skunky.

Johnny, Eddy, and Ricky all sat down within the circle. Ricky told someone next to him to scooch over, and he then patted the empty space next to him for Seven to sit. He was a bit shy, but he did take a seat.

“Lady and gentlemen, this is Seven,” Johnny told them. The people in the circle all gave their greetings and asked him a few light questions like “Where you from?”, “How old are you?”, “Want a hit?”, and left him be.

Seven watched as the people in the circle began passing around a bong, taking the fattest rips he’d ever seen, and it was the first time he had seen it in use. He was amazed by it, though, every time it got to him he just passed it to the next guy. He was curious to try it, but was too afraid of doing something wrong.

Even though the thought of never going back home scared him a little, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Who wouldn’t? He came from a strict family and a stricter army on a very nerve-wracking mission,amd he did have a small headache from getting hit in the head so many times, but he was just glad that he made out of it alive and in a much better situation than before.

He observed the people in the circle: Ricky, Eddy, Johnny, a hispanic man, a black man, an old white man, a white woman, an asian man, and so forth. All of these people were from different backgrounds, yet they seemed to be getting along with each other. They were happy, cheerful, silly, and coughing up lungs in harmony, with one bond of a drug that he was told by his parents would turn him into nothing but a ‘lazy piece of shit’. I mean, Johnny and Eddy looked like they smoked from time to time and they were wearing basketball jerseys. Speaking logically, people who smoke have a harder time at sports because of their lung capacity, but they both seemed like they didn’t have any issues with it at all due to their height.

He winced as his head began to pound. He guessed all the smoke in the room was taking a toll on him.

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Seven said shyly, as the chatter dwindled down, “but do any of you have something for a headache?”

“Oh, sure we do!” the woman said. “I have some advil in the back room. You feeling okay?”

“No worries, I just uh.. happened to bump my head on the way here a few times.” He rubbed his temple. “Advil should help lots. Thank you ma’am.”

She stood up from her spot in the circle. “No problem! Call me Mia.” Mia stepped over to the slide doors and opened them. “Sorry about all the smoke in here, it must be making you pretty dizzy. I’ll be back!”

She walked swiftly out of the living room, leaving the circle with one empty space. They continued to chat, but the bowl stopped moving across the room. He guessed they were waiting for her to come back before they continued passing.

A little after a minute later, Mia walked out of a hallway and into the kitchen area behind him. He heard clattering of dishes and running water for a few seconds before she came out of the kitchen and handed him a glass of water and an advil. Seven gave her his thanks as she sat back down in the circle. The bong was being passed around again.

He took the advil with water to wash it down and sighed. This must’ve been what heaven felt like, because he’d have to get into an entire argument with his parents before they’d agree to anything having to do with painkillers. They had the notion that any over the counter painkiller was about as abusable as an opiate.

His parent’s cruelty wasn’t the only noticeable difference between areas. Seven was surprised to find out that they just put hostile captives in prison and let the harmless ones roam free in their territory, because that definitely isn’t how they treat them at any government territory or government funded base. He watched videos on how to interrogate people in a course, and they demonstrated a lot of brutal methods. Let alone prisons, in which captives were placed under conditions where they did nothing but starve you, beat you, and make you do hard labor 24/7. Come to think of it, if his interrogation was nothing like the things he were taught, he assumed the prisons here were basically like being under probation or house arrest.

“Hey, want some pizza, man?” Johnny asked him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

The sound of food put a smile on his face, considering he hadn’t eaten in a good few hours. Hell, he hadn’t even eaten pizza since he was enrolled. “Well, s-sure!”

“You don’t mind certain toppings on your pizza, right? If so, we’ll just order a separate one for you,” the old man told him.

“It’s no problem,” Seven assured him.

Eddy chuckled at him. “You’re pretty chill, dogg.”

He grinned, taking a sip of his water. He could feel his headache dissipating with every word they spoke, even if he wasn’t listening much to their conversation. At this point, he didn’t wanna go home anymore. His family could wait, his base could eat shit, and he’d feel content with them never seeing him again. Of course, this was just him getting too settled in with his situation. He knew that at some point he’d have to tell his family where he was, and he wouldn’t just be chilling with the Shroomies and friends for long. There was a war out there still going on, and there won’t be a moment where he’ll be excluded from it.

But as of right now, his mind could only focus on that delicious pizza. Man, did Seven love pizza! It really had been a while since he had a slice of one.


End file.
